


Warmth

by mechamangamonkey



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sleepy fluff, The Author Is Here for S O F T, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, ineffable husbands, short and sweet, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22012015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechamangamonkey/pseuds/mechamangamonkey
Summary: In the wake of the Almost-pocalypse, Crowley has a new feeling to get used to.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46
Collections: Click Here If You’re Looking for a Distraction from the 2020 Presidential Election





	Warmth

Crowley woke up to mid-morning sunlight streaming in through the window and Aziraphale gently running his fingers through his hair. He didn’t open his eyes right away; he just enjoyed the warm sun on his skin and the warm angel in his bed. Suddenly, the fingertips tracing over his scalp were gone—Crowley was about to open his eyes and protest the loss when he heard the sound of a page turning, followed by the feeling of Aziraphale’s hand returning to his hair. He let out a content sigh and slipped an arm around Aziraphale’s waist.

“Good morning, dear,” Aziraphale murmured softly.

“Mmmph,” Crowley replied, still not quite awake.

“Are we planning on getting up any time soon?”

“Mmmph.” Crowley’s grip on Aziraphale’s waist tightened.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Aziraphale chuckled softly and put his book down on his nightstand before pulling Crowley closer to him. He pushed fire-red hair off of Crowley’s forehead and placed a gentle kiss there. Crowley grinned and buried his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder. As a serpent, he was used to getting cold quite easily, and yet, as a demon, he was also used to the heat; he was a mess of contradictions. But in the wake of the Almost-pocalypse that had occurred earlier that summer, Crowley had become quite accustomed to a new feeling, a feeling of warmth—not heat, but _warmth._ Heat was the feeling that came with hellfire burning its way through his veins and the smell of sulfur clinging to him whenever he went Below. This new feeling, this new, soft, gentle feeling, was a feeling that came with sun-warmed skin and an angel-warmed heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been working on this for a bit—I knew how I wanted it to start and how I wanted it to end, but I wasn’t sure how to get it from one place to the other. I finally figured it out though.


End file.
